Ohio Birds and Biodiversity

A recent project had me dipping into the archives for butterfly photos. I found this exercise brought back memories of warmer times and places. The weather here has dipped into the 20's at night, and hasn't been warming much beyond that during the day.

Butterflies are but a memory, until next spring (with rare exceptions). Most are overwintering in their chrysalis phase, or in a few cases as adults. We've got to go through the necessary winter dormancy, but this lull makes the appearance of next year's crop of butterflies all the better.

Following are a few images of butterflies from last season, or in an instance or two, a season beyond that. As a related aside, I'll be presenting a program on butterflies on January 18, 2014 at the Master Gardeners of Summit County's Design & Beyond Conference. I don't have the program together yet, but it'll be a look at how butterflies interact with our native flora, and will feature plenty of images such as follow.

A Great Spangled Fritillary, Speyeria cybele, nectars on Butterfly-weed, Asclepias tuberosa. The butterfly matches the orange milkweed nicely, and was one of a dozen or so working the blossoms when I made this shot at an Adams County prairie.

A Monarch, Danaus plexippus, works the showy flowers of Shale-barren Aster, Symphyotrichum oblongifolium. Monarchs had one of the worst years on record in 2013, and need our help. There are things that the urban and suburban gardener can do to help, such as plant milkweed.

An immigrant from the south, Common Checkered Skippers, Pyrgus communis, invaded the Columbus area in decent numbers. This one was photographed in a recently planted urban prairie, and was one of many that were present.

A different view of a Common Checkered Skipper. It is nearly outshined by the brilliant flower of an Indian-blanket, Gaillardia pulchella. This plant isn't native to Columbus, where this image was made, but it provides fast color in newly planted prairies. It doesn't jump the garden fence and take off in the wild, either.

A plain jane Cabbage White, Pieris rapae. Our only widespread and abundant nonnative butterfly. Its caterpillars snack avidly on plants in the mustard family, including garden fare, much to the consternation of gardeners.

This Orange Sulphur, Colias eurytheme, shows a bit of the orange upperwing that gives it its name. This sulphur and the previous one use various clovers, including some of the abundant nonnative weedy species, as host plants. Such adaptability makes these butterflies perhaps our most common species. The individual in this photo has impeccable taste. It is taking nectar from Riddell's Goldenrod, Oligoneuron riddellii, a rare (in Ohio) prairie plant.

Peck's Skipper, Polites peckius, showing its diagnostic extended "tooth" on the pattern of bars on the wing. This is one of our more common and easily recognized skippers. This one has chosen Tall Boneset, Eupatorium altissimum, as a nectar source.

Sporting an intricate underwing pattern is this Silvery Checkerspot, Chlosyne nycteis. These resemble robust Pearl Crescents, and can be easy to overlook, at least for me. This animal is feeding on the flowers of Narrow-leaved Mountain Mint, Pycnanthemum tenuifolium, one of myriad showy native mints.

Here's a top (dorsal) view of a Silvery Checkerspot, this time on a Mistflower, Conoclinium coelistinum. The scientific name of the plant is one of those seemingly unpronounceable names, but goes as follows: Ko-no-klin-ee-um/see-lih-steen-um.

Displaying frosted wing edges and an artfully coiled proboscis is this female Zabulon Skipper, Poanes zabulon. It is taking nectar from Rough Blazing-star, Liatris aspera. The Athens County meadow where I made this image was full of blazing-star, and butterflies. It'll probably be one of the field trip sites at next year's Mothapalooza II.

Finally, a stunning Painted Lady, Vanessa cardui, will usher out this post. It, along with many of its brethren, were nectaring at one of our most common and weedy native plants, the White Heath Aster, Symphyotrichum pilosum. A plant need not be rare to attract lots of good stuff. But, it does generally have to be native.

To learn more about native plants and their inestimable value, be sure and attend next year's Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton, Ohio - CLICK HERE for the scoop.

A pair of Lesser Black-backed Gulls, Larus fuscus, rests on the beach at Cape May, New Jersey. Horning in, lower right, is a first-cycle Ring-billed Gull, Larus delawarensis. I was pleased to see the Lesser Black-backed Gulls on my NJ trip of a few weeks back, and took the time to stalk up fairly close to make some images. The story of this gull in North America is an interesting tale.

The Ring-billed Gull is abundant throughout much of North America. This is the common gull in the interior, away from large water bodies, and is the gull that often flocks in mall parking lots. I noted that it is a first-cycle bird. "Cycle" refers to its molt cycle. This is a bird in its first year; a juvenile. It takes the Ring-billed Gull three years to attain (mostly) adult plumage. The larger gulls in the genus Larus take at least four years to develop adult plumage.

I made this image in December 2006, on a pelagic boat trip into the Atlantic Ocean off Belmar, New Jersey. We encountered this Lesser Black-backed Gull about 90 miles from land, working the waters around some fishing trawlers.

Lesser Black-backed Gulls are native to northwest Europe, where they frequent Atlantic coastal areas. The first record in North America was in 1934, from New Jersey. As the photo above illustrates, gulls are quite at home at sea and far from land. The distance from the gull's native haunts to the shores of America is something like 3,300 miles, but such travels are probably no great shakes for such an animal. This species has been on a westward expansion for some time. Lesser Black-backed Gulls occupied Greenland and began breeding there by 1990, and were nesting in Iceland by the 1920's.

A gorgeous adult Lesser Black-backed Gull, in nonbreeding plumage. Winter adults develop dusky flecking around the head and breast. When the bird attains breeding plumage in early spring, its head and neck will be gleaming white, and the legs and bill will be a brighter shade of yellow.

Even though the first documented North American record dates back to 1934, these gulls remained quite the rarity on this side of the pond for about four more decades. In the 1970's, the dam burst and records began to accumulate rapidly. Ohio's first Lesser Black-backed Gull dates to 1977. We've had scores of the animals since, and it is now an expected species in fall, winter and spring along Lake Erie. Hit a good day, and you might find a dozen. There is an ever-increasing number of interior records, too. We're not unique - Lesser Black-backed Gull has now been recorded in every eastern state, and eastern seaboard hotspots can host hundreds of the birds.

A sharp-looking adult Herring Gull, Larus argentatus, photographed at Barnegat Light, New Jersey. This species is closely related to the Lesser Black-backed Gull.

Given the rather recent and abrupt boom in North American records of Lesser Black-backed Gull, it is somewhat surprising that they aren't yet breeding here. Well, they have, sort of (unless there are other very recent records that I'm unaware of). The first documented nesting was of a Lesser Black-backed that was mated with a Herring Gull in Juneau, Alaska of all places, in 1993. That was unexpected. Then, in 2007 another bird was found nesting on Appledore Island off the coast of Maine, and it too was paired with a Herring Gull. The Appledore Island bird nested - with its Herring Gull mate - for at least four consecutive years. It's probably only a matter of time before Lesser Black-backed Gulls begin pairing with their own, and nesting records increase.

Many species of big gulls, like the Lesser Black-backed and Herring gulls, are incredibly adaptable. They have fared well in association with man. Our garbage pleases them, and much of the flotsam and jetsam of human society makes for good gull food.

In 1934, when that first New Jersey/North American Lesser Black-backed Gull caused an ornithological stir, the population of the United States was about 126,374,000 people. Today, it's about 314 million people. Gulls that prosper from our waste and cast-offs are one group of animals that benefit from unchecked runaway population growth.

Unfortunately, most animals aren't nearly so adaptable.

Video by David and Laura Hughes

It isn't just hummingbirds that visit hummingbird feeders! If you live in the southwestern U.S. or points south, you might have some mighty strange after-hours visitors. These are Mexican Long-tongued Bats, Choeronycteris mexicana, which feed primarily on nectar and pollen. Obviously, they have learned about the sweet stuff dispensed by hummingbird feeders, too.

This animal has an amazingly long tongue - up to a third of the bat's total length. It's well named. Mexican Long-tongued Bats range from northern Central America north through Mexico, reaching their northern limits in southern California, Arizona, and New Mexico.

Laura and David Hughes made this video back in August, when in Arizona. It's certainly worth sharing, and as always, I appreciate their outstanding videography and that they let me share their work here.

A beautiful early spring landscape, indeed, and it ain't Ohio. A project had me dipping back into the photo files, and I ran across this image from my trip to South Carolina last April. While down south, I made a point of photographing Spanish Moss, Tillandsia usneoides, one of the classic botanical symbols of the south.

I nearly sped by a gorgeous old cemetery on my way to Congaree National Park, but a stand of behemoth oaks and other trees festooned with Spanish Moss made me hit the brakes. Early morning sunshine and the clear blue ether made the photo ops that much better.

You just can't miss the hanging draperies of this plant; it's as if the trees wear grizzled beards. The name is a misnomer, though. Spanish Moss is not a moss at all - it is a monocotyledonous flowering plant. A bromeliad, to be specific. It actually looks more like a lichen than a moss, as suggested by the specific epithet of its scientific name: usneoides. When you see a scientific name with the epithet appended with an "oides" ending, it means "resembles". So, in the case of Spanish Moss, usneoides means "resembles Usnea", and Usnea is a genus of beard lichens.

But the pendant growths of Spanish Moss are air plants, and derive their nutrients from rain and air, and perhaps minerals leached from the host plant. As might be expected from such an obvious plant, it has garnered a fair share of attention. Balladeer Gordon Lightfoot - of Edmund Fitzgerald fame - wrote a tune entitled "Spanish Moss". So did the punk band Against Me!, and you can hear their song Spanish Moss, HERE. As an interesting automotive footnote, Spanish Moss was used widely in the early 1900's to stuff the seats of automobiles.

As might be expected of a plant that produces copious biomass, certain critters are strongly associated with Spanish Moss. A species of jumping spider, Pelegrina tillandsiae, is said to only inhabit this plant, and bats, snakes, insects and who knows what all lurks in its tangled masses. The gorgeous songbird above, the Northern Parula, is strongly associated with Spanish Moss and this warbler typically makes its nest in the plant, at least where the two species overlap.

Later on the same day that I made the first three photos, I came across this Northern Parula foraging in close proximity to Spanish Moss and couldn't resist trying to get both species in the same capture.

For me, one of the highlights of heading into the Deep South is the trees tangled in this interesting member of the Bromeliad family.

Photo: Chuck Slusarczyk

They've been finding great birds galore of late along Cleveland's Lake Erie coast, many of them practically in the shadow of the Cleveland Browns stadium. Chuck Slusarczyk, ace photographer who has shared his work with us many times, sent along some images of the latest batch of rarities. Viewing Chuck's work made me pine for a trip to the lake, but at least his images allowed me - and you - to live vicariously through his camera's lens.

Above, a first-cycle Black-legged Kittiwake, Rissa tridactyla, showing its distinctive sooty collar. Kittiwakes are mostly pelagic (ocean-going) and we get precious few of them in Ohio. In fact, this bird was Chuck's first kittiwake, along with many others, no doubt. We probably get far more kittiwakes than are seen, but most probably blow right down the middle of Lake Erie on the way to the Atlantic, and are never seen. Once in a while, one has the good matters to come to shore and hang loose for a bit, as this one did.

Other than a small percentage of the population taking a brief Great Lakes hiatus while in transit, Black-legged Kittiwakes are seldom out of sight of the sea. They nest on cliffs overlooking the sea, and winter at sea. This towering rock face is on St. Paul Island, Alaska, which is one of four islands that form the Pribilofs. I made this photo during a June 2010 trip, and I can tell you that this is a cold place. Kittiwakes thrive in cold environments, and spend that vast majority of their lives in wet frosty conditions that would kill you or I in short order.

The ledges of this cliff are festooned with nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes. Being that this is St. Paul Island, there are much rarer Red-legged Kittiwakes mixed in, but most are the former. There aren't many safer nesting spots. Would-be predators will have a tough time accessing kittiwake nests.

This was one of my more surreal experiences on St. Paul. Kittiwakes, gathering moss from the tundra in pea soup thick fog. This is one of few times that kittiwakes purposely alight on flat ground away from the water. As we stood there, taking in the scene, ghostly kittiwakes would materialize from the fog, bills full of moss, flying to the distant coast and their nesting colony.

Kittiwake-harvested moss goes to good use - it provides the birds with fodder to build these bulky cups. Few gull chicks have it as good as the kittiwake chicks. The specific epithet of the Black-legged Kittiwake - Rissa tridactyla - means "three toed". They actually have four toes, but the hind digit is greatly reduced, apparently an adaptation to better improve the birds' ability to stand on narrow cliff ledges such as this.

This is an adult Black-legged Kittiwake, and we never see this plumage in Ohio. All of them are young birds, such as in Chuck's shots. Supposedly there are four records of adults from Lake Erie, but I don't know any details...

The adults are gorgeous black, gray, and white gulls. Very neat and long-winged, the wingtips appearing as if dipped cleanly in a vat of ink. They are wonderful flyers, too - far more at home in the air than anywhere else. I made this image from atop a tall sea cliff, while kittiwake after kittiwake streamed by below, effortlessly riding the turbulent air currents blasting off the sea and smashing into the cliff. If Jonathan Livingston Seagull were real, he'd be a kittiwake.

Photo: Chuck Slusarczyk

If all goes well in the kittiwake nest high on a cliff ledge, this is the result. A strikingly marked juvenile, as in this beautiful image by Slusarczyk. The bold black bands on the wing form a rough W, and the inky-tipped tail band and charcoal neck collar provide punctuation. I've seen four or five of these in Ohio, and they've all jumped out visually from the pack of associated gulls. The best kittiwake find I made was a bird on the Scioto River in downtown Columbus, years ago. Ohio kittiwake records are few and far between away from our Great Lake.

Map courtesy Birds of North America Online/Cornell Lab of Ornithology

It would be most interesting to know the origins of Lake Erie kittiwakes. This species has a split breeding distribution in North America. There are the birds that breed along the Alaskan coastline and island chains, and there are populations centered around the Gulf of St. Lawrence and adjacent Newfoundland on the other side of the continent. There are also disjunct scattered populations breeding in the high arctic of Canada, due north of Hudson Bay. The St. Lawrence populations have expanded greatly in the past 40 years; I'm not sure if the high arctic colonies have also increased.

So, Chuck's immature Black-legged Kittiwake may have wandered into the Great Lakes from the east, by following the St. Lawrence River, forging through Lake Ontario, passing over the falls at Niagara, and eventually finding itself on Lake Erie in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame's backyard.

Better yet, and a far wilder journey but not an implausible one, is that the kittiwake originated in one of the high arctic colonies. If so, it likely made its way south through Hudson Bay and into James Bay, aerially portaged across the landmass between there and the Great Lakes, and entered our waters. If so, what a trip! That young kittiwake would have traveled nearly 2,500 miles to reach Cleveland! I think that other species of seabirds that are rare on Lake Erie, such as jaegers, travel a path similar to the one outlined above.

Presumably, the Alaska breeders winter in the Pacific off the west coast and it's unlikely those birds would appear here. But, there is another possible point of origin. Many kittiwakes that breed in northern Europe make their way across the Atlantic to our offshore waters, especially young birds. Some of these juveniles stay on this side of the Atlantic for their first year, before heading back to breed when mature. I suppose it's possible that one of these European kittiwakes could make its way to Lake Erie. My money is on the high arctic birds, though.

However this kittiwake came to be in Ohio, it has thrilled many a birder and we're glad to have it. Thanks as always to Chuck for sharing his work, and check out more of his images HERE.

A "murder of crows" settles in to roost

Columbus Dispatch

NATURE
December 1st, 2013

Jim McCormac

May 13, 1851, was a big day for Charles Pease.

But the date turned out to be more momentous for his father-in-law, Jared Kirtland.

That spring morning, Pease was collecting birds on Kirtland’s farm near Cleveland and bagged a warbler unknown to him or anyone else. The specimen made its way to ornithologist Spencer Baird, who named it Kirtland’s warbler in honor of the great Ohio naturalist and politician.

Kirtland’s warbler is one of many birds with honorific titles. Of about 425 species seen thus far in Ohio, the names of 41 recognize an individual. Some are justified, such as the aforementioned warbler (although the collector might have hoped for “Pease’s warbler”). Others are not as deserving.

One of our showiest songbirds is the Blackburnian warbler. The male’s throat is brilliant orange, as if the bird is aflame with glowing embers.

What, though, is a “Blackburne”? Ashton Blackburne was a naturalist who collected animals around New York in the 1700s. One of his specimens wound up with Thomas Pennant, who named the stunning bird for Ashton’s sister, Anna Blackburne, a British botanist. Ms. Blackburne never visited the Americas or saw her namesake in the wild.

Blander are bird names that commemorate a region. Seventy-four of the species found in Ohio are tagged with “Northern,” “Eastern,” “American” or some such locational descriptor. One of these is a woodpecker, the former yellow-shafted flicker. In 1983, ornithologists redubbed the bird “Northern flicker” — a nomenclatural tragedy.

The most common modifiers used in bird names involve color. One hundred forty Ohio species collectively describe a palette of color.

Sometimes these monikers make sense; other times, less so. No one would quibble over the titles of blue jay or yellow warbler.

But an observer might look askance at a red-bellied woodpecker. What red belly? The species has one, but an observer must have a bird practically in hand to see the subtle pinkish feathers.

All of our birds were named during the shotgun era of ornithology, when collectors blasted their target, then described it. Thus, the red belly of the aforementioned woodpecker was obvious to the original describer even if not for us, looking from afar.

Most people are far more attuned to visual senses, and that explains the scarcity of birds named for the sounds they make. Only 24 of our birds are named for their melodies, such as the song sparrow, even though all of them produce sound. Early ornithologists weren’t following their ears nearly as much as their eyes.

Congregations of birds are sometimes given whimsical names.

A flock of crows is a “murder of crows.” You’ve heard of a “gaggle of geese,” but what about a "charm of finches”? A roost of owls is a “parliament.” Wrens are musical, and a group is aptly named a “chime.” Perhaps the “quarrel of sparrows” raiding your feeder is irritating. As an antidote, visit the zoo to discover a “flamboyance of flamingos” or “ostentation of peacocks.”

And my favorite, if not that of the fishy crowd, is a “siege of herons.”

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first and third Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com.

Photo: John Howard

John Howard snapped the image above, of a big beautiful immature female Snowy Owl, Bubo scandiacus, near twilight, tonight! This sighting is especially significant as the bird is in southern Ohio, and we seldom get these Arctic visitors that far south. This owl is frequenting an area along State Route 73, just north of the Adams County line in Highland County.

The Highland County bird is certainly not the only one in the state. At least eleven others were reported today. One was in western Ohio, in Paulding County, and the others were along Lake Erie, with Cleveland the hotspot. About eight have been along the lakefront there, and two were seen by John Pogacnik at Conneaut Harbor. You can be sure that more are out there awaiting discovery, and if one turned up in Highland County, they could be anywhere. Double-check anything that looks like a distant white bag caught up in corn stubble in a field.

Snowy Owls are appearing in numbers beyond Ohio, and at least one has made it is far south as North Carolina. Our neighbor to the west, Indiana, had at least ten today from various locales, and numerous others have turned up around the Great Lakes.

It was just two winters ago that we had another notable flight, and I got the opportunity to talk about those owls with NPR's Melissa Block, RIGHT HERE. It may well be that this winter's flight will eclipse that 2011/12 invasion. Keep your eyes peeled!

I wrote about the "Duck Stamp" not long ago, HERE. The $800 million raised by the sale of stamps since its inception in 1934 has resulted in a LOT of on the ground conservation. Here in Ohio, about 89% of Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge was purchased with stamp dollars. There are myriad similar stories around the country.

In short: purchasing a Federal Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp (as it is formally known) is perhaps the best $15 investment you can make to protect wildlife, no matter what your interests may be. Grasslands and wetlands purchased with Duck Stamp dollars doesn't just protect ducks, but the entire suite of plants and animals that depend upon these biologically rich habitats. Everyone benefits. Birders, botanists, dragonfliers, butterfliers, and of course, hunters.

Independent filmmaker Brian Davis is in the midst of producing the first documentary about the stamp. It promises to be interesting, and should be a big boost to getting the message of conservation into new quarters. Davis seeks funds to make this project a reality, and you can contribute via Kickstarter. He's most of the way to his goal, and the deadline to donate comes this Friday morning.

Check out the trailer below; it'll tell you all about "The Million Dollar Duck". To donate to this worthwhile project, CLICK HERE.

Photo: Larry Jeanblanc

On December 1st, Doug Overacker made an interesting report to the Ohio Birds Listserv. He, Julie Karlson, and Larry Jeanblanc had discovered what appears to be a very noteworthy hybrid duck. They found the bird at a park in Springfield, Ohio that is well known for the numbers and diversity of migrant waterfowl that stop to rest and refuel there.

Being keen on all things waterfowl, I asked Larry - who imaged the bird - if he would allow me to share some of his photos. He kindly agreed, and here they are. These photos are actually from yesterday, when Larry went back found the odd duck still in residence. I believe it was still there today.

Photo: Larry Jeanblanc

If you're a student of waterfowl, this bird will instantly remind you of two species, just as it did to Doug, Julie, and Larry when they discovered it. It's as if a Green-winged Teal (Anas crecca) and a Gadwall (A. strepera) were welded together. The head and breast are totally teal, while much of the remainder of the bird recalls features of the Gadwall. Traits of the latter are the conspicuous charcoal-black rump, beautiful gray vermiculations on the sides, smoky-brown upperparts, and the white and cinnamon on the wing.

I had never heard of a Green-winged Teal x Gadwall, hence my interest in their find, and desire to share Larry's photos.

Photo: Larry Jeanblanc

A typical Gadwall with the hybrid. Our cross is consorting with a hundred or so Gadwall. I delved into the literature to see what I could find about this weird combination, and there's little to be found. The Birds of North America monographs do not mention this pairing under either species' accounts, nor do other sources that I checked. Finally, I came across a waterfowl hunting website, and there I found a post from a waterfowler in Kansas who took one of these hybrids on November 16 of this year. He doesn't say the exact locale where he shot the bird, but the post and photos are RIGHT HERE.

Waterfowl are notorious for jumping the genetic fence and crossing with other species, and hybrid combinations abound. At least 400 different combinations have been recorded worldwide, and waterfowl are the most prolific hybridizers of any family of birds. Keepers of captive fowl encourage many strange pairings, but there are scores of examples of wild cross-breeding. Given the timing and location of this bird as well as its associates, I'd suspect that it was spawned in the wild. The breeding ranges of Gadwall and Green-winged Teal overlap extensively, so the two species commonly come into contact. Their size differences must be a formidable barrier to interbreeding, as the comparatively massive Gadwall outweighs the tiny teal by nearly three times. Perhaps that's why this hybrid combo is so scarce.

If anyone knows of Gadwall x Green-winged Teal hybrids, please let me know. As cool as this report is, and the one from Kansas, I can't imagine that they are the first to be reported. Thanks to Larry for sharing his photos, and to he, Doug, and Julie for making this find and reporting it.

I really like raccoons, and that, I know, is not a universal sentiment. Get a couple of the masked bandits in the attic, and chaos can ensue. The wily beasts discover your garbage in the garage, and havoc might be wrought. But you've got to hand it to the critters - they are nearly on a par with most humans (so it would seem) when it comes to smarts.

David and Laura Hughes sent me several outstanding trail cam videos recently, including the following. We've all seen the little handlike paw prints of raccoons on the muddy banks of streams and ponds, and here is one in the act of making those prints. But what is really cool is its buddy, who soon swims into the picture. He/she is just happily motorboating about, so it would seem.

Video: David and Laura Hughes

Raccoons, Procyon lotor. Shot in October, 2013, Monroe County, Ohio.

A wintertime country road in rural Ohio. Frigid temperatures, a landscape blanketed in snow, and brutal winds conspire to make this a habitat unfit for man or beast. But even such a seemingly stark environment does indeed have its beasts, even if overall biodiversity of living species can often be tallied on one hand.

I spent this morning searching backroads in Pickaway and Ross counties for Snowy Owls. Even though none of the big Arctic visitors put in an appearance, I saw scores of another bird species not put off by tough winter conditions. Horned Larks. These sleek Fox Sparrow-sized members of the Alaudidae share familial ties with the fabled Sky Lark of Eurasia, and are - in my estimation - just as special.

As I cruised roads similar to the above, small flocks of Horned Larks scurried mouselike along the verges of the lanes, seeking sustenance at the interface of gravel, blacktop and snow. When fields become smothered in the white stuff, the larks are forced to the roads to find feed, and an observer can get an idea of just how common they are. But what, in such a barren landscape, are they eating?

This gravelly tract is superficially similar to most Ohio roadsides, and shares the same plants. Several species of small spindly grasses find a foothold in such sites, and much of their biomass is of species in the genera Sporobolus (dropseeds) and Aristida (triple-awned grasses). The fruit of these plants is tiny, but is nutritious and produced en masse.

A Horned Lark, Eremophila alpestris, examines your narrator. To most people, if they notice these birds at all, the larks are just fleeting shadows; brownish wisps flushing from the roadside and coursing out over the surrounding fields. Birders notice them, and those up on field ID know to look for the lark's flag, a conspicuous black tail. Sometimes the rarer Snow Bunting and/or Lapland Longspur are intermingled.

After a bit, I came across a lark flock that was fixated on a section of vacant roadway, and slowly coasted my car up close. Using the vehicle as a blind and exercising a bit of patience, a couple of the larks eventually moved in close to feed. We - or at least I - may marvel at the hardiness of these songbirds, as well we should. It was about 20 degrees F and breezy when I made these photos, and the larks routinely endure FAR colder temperatures. The wide-open spaces of a barren corn field on a sub-zero winter night might seem to be about the most inhospitable place in the world, but that's typical of where the larks bed down. They shun all but the most open places.

Anyway, it doesn't seem like there would be much of sustenance in the above shot. But there is, although few animals could successfully exploit such a niche. This Horned Lark, fat and all afluff, was feeding on the grasses springing from that crack in the asphalt between it and the snow. The aforementioned Sporobolus grasses had found a home in this fissure, and the lark was gobbling down their fruit.

A first-year Horned Lark joins the adult on the right, both busily milking that crack in the road for all it's worth. This is what all those roadside larks are doing: harvesting the seed of grasses and other plants that survive along the roadsides, or have blown in from nearby fields. If passing grain trucks leak some cargo, all the better. As befits a bird that habitually feeds on the ground, the larks walk, not hop. It's a more efficient mode of locomotion.

In the relatively brief period that I watched these larks and their companions, scads of tiny seeds were plucked and consumed. Grass seed is tough stuff, and some of those grains are destined to run through the larks' digestive tracts intact. They'll be expelled somewhere else, maybe near, maybe far.

Horned Larks have been harvesting grass seed for eons, and play a valuable role in dispersing native plants.

UPDATE NOTICE: I first created this article last night, summarizing all of the Snowy Owl reports that I was aware of in Ohio. I then shared this with the 2,200+ member Birding Ohio Facebook page (Kudos to Jeff Loughman for founding that group). More reports came in, and the owl tally is now up to 50 birds in 21 counties. I have been hearing about new owls daily, and I will update the map and running tally below as new information arrives.

Photo: John Howard, Highland County, Ohio, December 1, 2013

I wrote about the ongoing irruption of Snowy Owls HERE on December 1, and at that time about a dozen of the big white(ish) birds had been reported in Ohio. Well, they just keep on coming! To date, I've heard of 50 owls in the state, and they are attracting attention far and wide. Most of the local newspapers in areas where the owls have appeared have written about them, and Snowy Owls have made national media as well.

One particularly noteworthy story involved JFK Airport in New York City. Owls have been dropping in to feed along the runways, and word leaked out that several had been shot by airport personnel. There had been five owl-plane collisions, and the airport felt that extermination with extreme prejudice was required. Of course, there are other ways of handling such a situation, and Boston Logan Airport provided the example. There, runway owls have been live-trapped and released elsewhere for many years. After a hue and a cry from the public, JFK to their great credit quickly adopted the more humane method of owl deterrence. NBC4 in New York covered the story, and Corey Finger of 10000 Birds was featured. He did a great job, and this news story was probably instrumental in effecting change. That piece IS HERE.

Anyway, back to the Buckeye State. Many owls have appeared since December's inception, and I've heard of 50 birds in 21 counties to date. Every day, it seems, one or a few more come to light. Following is a map showing their distribution, and under that a list of how many in each county. There are probably others that I'm missing. If you know of any additional owls, please send me a note: jimmccormac35@gmail.com

1. Ashtabula – 6

2. Coshocton – 2

3. Cuyahoga – 9

4. Erie – 4

5. Greene – 1

6. Hancock – 1

7. Highland – 1

8. Holmes – 1

9. Huron – 1

10. Lake – 3

11. Lorain – 3

12. Lucas – 2

13. Medina - 1

14. Muskingum - 1

15. Ottawa – 4

16. Paulding – 1

17. Pickaway/Ross (birds on county line road) – 3

18. Portage - 1

19. Putnam – 1

20. Seneca - 1

21. Trumbull – 3

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of getting afield with Joe Faulkner and Vicki Derr. They gave me a tour of the Rehoboth Reclamation Grasslands in Perry County. This massive strip mine complex is an interesting place, and already producing interesting bird life. I've got a lot of photos from our journey, and will hope to cobble together a piece when time permits.

At one point, we dropped into a valley full of wetlands, and got out to check for Swamp Sparrows and whatever else might be around. After a bit of searching, I turned the other direction, and Whoa! The sky was ribbed with a fantastic formation of clouds, as if a giant pinwheel was centered on some distant point and slowly revolving through the sky. It was a striking atmospheric spectacle, and I tried to capture the clouds with my camera.

As always, click the photo to enlarge

These, apparently, are classified as Altocumulus Clouds. They typically form between 7,000 to 20,000 feet, and can take on the look of rolling uniform layers, such as in this formation. It was a stunning skyscape, to be sure.

I'm glad we bumbled under these clouds. It's easy to get too busy to take time to appreciate - or notice - magnificent spectacles such as this.

As about everyone who is into birds in eastern North America knows, this is the winter of the Snowy Owl (I wrote about them HERE, and am keeping an updated map and numbers of the owls in Ohio). Even scores of nonbirders are aware of the incursion of these massive tundra owls, thanks to intensive coverage in the media. A common question surrounding this phenomenon centers on their origins. Just about everyone I've talked to about Snowy Owls wants to know where they originated.

That's an easy question, in a general sense. The Arctic tundra. But that answer covers a lot of ground. The tundra, of course, blankets the upper rim of the entire North American continent (not to mention polar regions around the entire top of the world). So, the refined question becomes: "Where exactly are these owls coming from?". That's often a hard thing to pinpoint. It's not like the Arctic is crawling with birders, and vast regions of the tundra see few if any people, especially people who are keeping specific tabs on Snowy Owls.

Bruce Mactavish provides the likely answer on his Newfoundland Birding Blog. Bruce has birding the Canadian island of Newfoundland for nearly 40 years, and his is a well known name amongst birders. We're pretty happy with our 61 (reported to date) Snowy Owls in Ohio, and that is an incredible number. Just imagine last weekend in southeastern Newfoundland. Bruce and other birders found a total of 301 (yes, 301!) Snowy Owls during their weekend wanderings! He has absolutely stunning photos of some of these birds on his blog.

Anyway, Bruce made various inquiries of researchers who were in the high reaches of the tundra, where the Snowy Owls breed, last summer. To cut to the chase, it appears that the northernmost reaches of Quebec experienced a peak population of lemmings, and the owl nesting success spiked big time in response to the bounty of prey. Mactavish shared an amazing photo of an owl nest ringed with the carcasses of 70 lemmings augmented with eight voles posted on his blog. The eggs haven't even hatched yet! There was certainly no shortage of food for those owlets, and one might assume that most of the other nests in northern Quebec also resembled fortresses surrounded by ramparts of dead rodents. Researchers operating in tundra regions west, east, and north of this area reported low to normal numbers of Snowy Owls.

The area in red shows the approximate region where our Snowy Owls likely originated. Owls have been turning up all over the Great Lakes region, and the eastern seaboard of Canada and the U.S. Some of have made it as far south as North Carolina and Bermuda (yes, Bermuda!). Owls are still turning up, so keep your eyes peeled.

Your narrator's car, perched along the verge of a Jackson County, Ohio lane, deep in the boondocks. I was down there yesterday to participate in the Beaver Christmas Bird Count - about the 20th year that I've done this count. Tis the season for bird counts; the count period began Saturday. I started doing CBC's when I was just a young lad, long before I had a driver's license, and have participated in nearly 100 to date.

The weather isn't obvious in the photo, but it was dismal. The temperature at 8 am was 34 F, and rose to only 37 F. Frosty temps are no problem, but the nonstop rain that ranged from light to moderate showers was an issue. To me, there are no worse weather conditions than drenching rain at temperatures just above freezing. Makes it much harder to find birds.

One unfortunate aspect of covering the same turf for many years is the negative changes one sees. Last year, the open area above was a wet thicket buffered by goldenrod meadows. For many years I pulled Swamp Sparrows and many other species from this plot. No more - cleared, and drained.

Sorry for the dreaded white sky background in these photos, but there's nothing I could do about that. White skies are the absolute worse for photographic backdrops, and we get a lot of those skies in Ohio winters.

On a more uplifting note, I was cruising this backwoods lane when I came across a nice thicket of Smooth Sumac, Rhus glabra. It's the plants on the left, adorned with reddish-brown clusters. Sumac is a gold mine for birds in the winter.

Here's a closeup of the fruit of Smooth Sumac. Each panicle is loaded with (apparently) tasty and nutritious fruit, and come lean times, frugivorous (fruit-eating) birds dig into them with gusto.

As I trolled up to the sumac, window down, I quickly heard and saw American Robins. Lots of robins. I estimated about 95 birds were flying around, dropping in to pluck sumac fruit, whisper-singing, and generally greatly enlivening the woods. This first-year robin stands guard by a nice cluster of sumac fruit.

One effect of having a big flock of active robins in a large woodland is that their hustle and bustle attracts lots of other birds. The sumac entices the robins. Their conspicuous activity draws many other birds who then forage in the vicinity even though the hangers-on aren't necessarily after the sumac's fruit. I probably had at least a dozen species in the mixed flock with the robin nucleus. In the songbird world, plants ultimately orchestrate the show.

Our young robin digs in. He and his brethren plucked many a berry in the time that I hung out and watched. Some of the fruit will probably pass through the ravages of the birds' digestive tracts intact, and thus new sumac colonies may spring up elsewhere. Birds do not get their due as avian Johnny Appleseeds.

The robin sates its hunger, one berry at a time. Just that one sumac panicle hosts hundreds of fruit.

In winter, this is the species that I key in on the most around sumac thickets, the Hermit Thrush. Sure enough, it wasn't long before I heard the distinctive low chuck call note. Shortly thereafter, the thrush flew in and also began harvesting sumac. Were the weather not so unpleasant, I probably would have found more than this one Hermit Thrush. They are more common than is generally thought in winter; searching sumac is key to finding them.

Every yard would benefit from having an assemblage of sumac. Native plants such as these are incalculably more valuable to birds and other animals than the all too common nonnative garden fare. In the sumac world, at least in this part of the world, the best bang for the buck probably comes from the aforementioned Smooth Sumac, and Staghorn Sumac, Rhus typhina. See if you can find some at an enlightened nursery, and stick 'em in the yard.

In the above photo, we see Smooth Sumac in full flower in mid-summer. The oceans of tiny greenish-yellow flowers attract legions of interesting pollinating insects. When I am out and about, camera in hand, and spot flowering sumac I always veer over for a look. I've obtained many a great insect image at these flowers.

By mid-August or so, the sumac thickets are sporting bright reddish-brown candelabras of long-lasting fruit. Come winter, it is there to provide sustenance to robins and other thrushes that are trying to ride out the northern winter.

Keep in mind next summer's Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton, Ohio: August 1st thru 3rd. That's an awesome venue to learn more about native flora, buy quality plants, and generally have a great time.

For the past four years, I've been leading natural history tours in Presque Isle County, Michigan in conjunction with Mark and Jackie Schuler, the owners of NettieBay Lodge. I've written about past trips many times here, and if you type in "Michigan" in the search box in the upper left corner of this page, you'll easily find those accounts. I'll be guiding trips there again next year, on the dates of May 15th thru 18th, and a second trip from May 19th thru 22nd. The lodge is our base of operations, and we make forays throughout the county each day, as well as nocturnal trips for those who are interested. By the way, epicures will become rapturous over Jackie's cooking. She's world class and the food is out of this world. I can't find a restaurant around here that can produce such scrumptious fare.

That's the grounds of NettieBay Lodge, above, with its lakefront cabins bordering Lake Nettie. Towering oaks and white pine support lots of birds, including the resident pair of Pine Warblers. American Woodcock display in the front yard. Eastern Whip-poor-wills carry on in the woods, sometimes upstaged by the local Barred Owls. Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers (the commonest breeding woodpecker), Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, and Purple Finches are common yard birds. Much more, too, and we haven't even made it out of the "yard"!

When I first went up there, in 2010, I wasn't sure what to expect. Presque Isle County is wedged in the far righthand corner of Michigan's Lower Peninsula, hard against the blue waters of Lake Huron. No one I talked to knew much about the area. It seems that birders and natural history buffs generally blow right by in their rush to get up to the Upper Peninsula. Having been up there a number of times, too, I can tell you that the UP has little or nothing on Presque Isle County. When it comes to sheer biodiversity and diversity of habitats, it's just hard to beat.

On my inaugural trip into the county, I quickly saw that things were going to be awesome when I found a completely unexpected (to me) population of Kirtland's Warblers within a half-hour of the lodge. And it only got better from there.

Mark Schuler prepares the pontoon boat for launch. Our groups are small - we keep them to about eight people - so we all easily fit on this boat, and don't overwhelm our resources and one another when on trips further afield.

After dinner on one of the nights, we walk out back, hop on the boat, and work the lake. For several decades Common Loons have nested on a nearby island, and the birds know the Schulers and their boat and often swim right up, as this bird has done. You'll also have no problem hearing their loud, eerie yodeling every night - a true sound of the wilderness. We find scads of other interesting birds from the boat, including nesting Ospreys, Sedge Wrens, Virginia Rails, Alder Flycatcher and more.

Ocqueoc Falls, a beautiful spot not far from NettieBay Lodge, and I believe the largest waterfalls in the Lower Peninsula. We always take time to visit and hike the trail along the stream. There are always interesting birds and plants to be found here.

Chestnut-sided Warblers are very common breeders, one of 19 nesting warbler species. Specialties include the aforementioned Kirtland's Warbler, Mourning Warbler, Golden-winged Warbler, and occasionally the hybrid Brewster's Warbler. Sometimes we catch huge movements of migratory warblers along the shores of Lake Huron, too. Last May, one of our groups was dazzled by hundreds and hundreds of warblers of many species streaming by in the trees. At one point we had eight species in one tree! You can read an account of that experience RIGHT HERE.

There is much more than birds to see in Presque Isle County. This is a Badger den, with fresh tailings from the beast's excavations. This sandy woodland lane has a few dozen dens along its length. No guarantees we'll see the burly mammals, but we'll certainly try.

Another interesting mammal is the Porcupine, and we're almost sure to see one. They're quite common. We know where a few active den trees are, too.

A typical total bird list for one of the three day excursions is about 150 species. While we largely do know what to expect, and where to look, you never know exactly where things will turn up. This American Bittern - a common breeding bird - was standing in the middle of Rainy Lake Road when we turned the corner.

I'll promise you a good time if you can make the trip, and lots of opportunities to see and learn about birds, other animals, and plants. To sign on, touch base with Jackie Schuler at NettieBay Lodge, RIGHT HERE. So far, we've filled each of the trips in short order, so if you're interested, I'd check into it pretty soon.

A while back, the inimitable myrmecologist Alex Wild made a post about Google's reverse image search capabilities. Alex captures absolutely stunning macro images of ants and other small things at his blog, Myrmecos. He, like me, has a lot of money and time invested in his photography and equipment. Anyway, Alex's post was on his other blog, Compound Eye, and dealt with the frequency with which people steal images from other people's websites and use them without permission or attribution. It's a good read, and the post generated scored of comments about the issue of using others work without credit. Read it HERE. Sometimes, these thefts are fairly innocuous: people sharing them on Pinterest or on personal blogs. Other times, less savory types are trying to pass other people's work off as their own, or even attempting to sell it.

After reading Alex's post, I meant to delve into The Google's reverse image search, and see what photos of mine might have been pirated. But I am always busy, and never got around to it. Today, Kenn Kaufman made a post on our Ohio Birds Listserv regarding a Common Eider that was recently reported to eBird, with a photo. The eider would be a mega-rarity of high order in Ohio. Kaufman's reverse image search revealed that the photo was in fact taken several years ago by Cleveland birder Jerry Talkington, and was run with one of Jim McCarty's columns in the Cleveland Plain Dealer.

This prompted me to finally dip into Google's reverse image search, and the results were depressing. I'm not naïve about this stuff - I know that people right click and snag photos from the web all the time. My images, like most posted to the web, are greatly compressed and I figure they're too small to reproduce on any scale. I've seen my photos appear elsewhere without credit a number of times, and that prompted me to post the notice about use of photographs that appears on the right side of this page. Interestingly, after putting that up a year or so ago, the number of requests to use photos sky-rocketed - I have probably received 40-50 over the last year.

But that warning wasn't good enough. The photo theft thing has been gnawing at me more than usual, as a couple of people have approached me in the last few months wanting high-resolution images that they could use for their own purposes. Trying to be a nice guy, I sent them the images on their promise that they would pay the agreed upon fee. Nothing. So much for being a nice guy. I've also had the same lack of payment issue with a couple of articles that I've written and were published. Guess one can't rely on "handshake" agreements anymore.

Anyway, tonight I picked one of my images that I thought might be popular, and prone to theft. It's below:

A particularly adorable Northern Saw-whet Owl that appeared on my blog in THIS POST way back in 2007. I dropped the image into the Google machine, and was stunned at the hits that came back! There were several dozen websites using the photo, from all over the place, nearly all unknown to me and with no credit. I certainly didn't provide these pirates with the image.

That was depressing. There's no way I'd ever have time to contact all these sites and ask them to remove the image. And that owl is the only image that I've searched on so far. Not really sure that I want to check any others, as I'm sure I'd find legions of other thefts. I've posted a lot of pretty cool original photos over the years, in 1,263 blog entries since I began using BlogSpot in 2007.

Some argue that once one posts a photo on the Internet, it's fair game. I disagree. I view it in the same light as plagiarism, particularly if the thief doesn't cite the source. After all, it's me, or Alex, or anyone else who has invested in camera equipment and made the effort to go afield and capture interesting images, who did all the work and paid the price.

As Alex Wild points out, there is really no way you can completely safeguard your image. Watermarks can be removed. Right click disabling software can be defeated. Even shrinking the photo doesn't totally solve the problem - it can still be used in many capacities.

I'm not the most tech-savvy guy in the world, admittedly. If anyone knows ways of thwarting photo thieves, I'd love to hear them.

We're up to 68 owls in 30 counties in Ohio, by my reckoning. CLICK HERE for the latest distribution map, which is regularly updated.

Yesterday was the Chandlersville Chistmas Bird Count, ably orchestrated by compiler Scott Albaugh. Scott's been running the count for the past five years or so, and I've been along for all or most of them. The day dawned overcast and rainy, and it didn't abate until the very end of the day. At least it was fairly warm, with temperatures in the upper 50's. Such wet balmy weather allowed us to add an amphibian to the count list - Spring Peeper.

The 15-mile diameter count circle is quite diverse, including large tracts of woodlands, numerous ponds and wetlands, and vast grasslands. It's a lot of ground to cover, and we don't have too many people to deploy. If you enjoy bird counts, put the Chandlersville count on your calendar for next year.

Most birders know this region of southeastern Muskingum County because of the Wilds, a sprawling 10,000-acre large animal conservation and research facility. The Wilds, and thousands of acres of surrounding lands, were cleared and flattened in the course of coal strip mining. Diverse mixed mesophytic forests were destroyed, and in their place, "reclamation" resulted in expansive rolling grasslands. But to make lemonade from lemons, the new and utterly artificial grasslands have proven to be beneficial breeding habitat for a declining suite of grassland birds, and good wintering grounds for a variety of raptors.

I am fortunate indeed that Mr. Albaugh assigns me to cover the fenced off interior of the Wilds. These areas are normally off-limits, unless you take one of the tours in the open season. The Wilds provides us with hosts who escort our team throughout the inner sanctum, and it is always interesting. Kudos to the management of the Wilds for supporting research, surveys, and management of native birds, in addition to their core work involving large mammals.

Susan Nash and I were paired with Win Fox and Rachael Glover, who are apprentices at the Wilds. They were fabulous hosts and excellent spotters, and shuttled us though the core of the Wilds. Once inside the fence, one will quickly be reminded who the VIP's are. These Bactrian Camels were reticent to move from the road as we approached.

The Wilds' various big game comes first, and all we could do was hope that the camels decided to allow us past. They did, finally, sidling to the edge of the road while we hoped that they wouldn't spit in the window.

At another point, a fine herd of Bactrian Deer browsed near the road. Note the herd's stud-in-chief, center, with the huge rack. In all, the Wilds works with over 20 species of large mammals, including rarities such as Przewalski’s Wild Horse. This species had disappeared from its native range in Mongolia and China by the end of the 1960's. The Wilds' and other facilities' successful propagation programs has allowed about 400 of the horses to be reintroduced back into their native haunts.

The Wilds also works with Cheetah, Fringe-eared Oryx, Greater One-horned Asian Rhino, Persian Onager, Giraffe, African Wild Dog and many others. Seeing strange beasts such as these as one birds the place is a rather surreal experience. Be sure and take a tour of the Wilds sometime. It is one of the most interesting outdoor experiences that one can find in Ohio. CLICK HERE for details.

Many indigenous mammals also can be found on the Wilds' property. This Red Fox (some would argue it ISN'T native!) was huddled in a sheltered spot along a fence, trying its best to stay out of the steady rain. Scores of White-tailed Deer roam the landscape, as do plenty of Coyotes. This area seems to have plenty of Bobcats, too, and I saw my first wild one here back in 2009, and detailed the experience, with photos, RIGHT HERE.

In spite of the nonstop rain, we did fairly well with the birds. Our team tallied 46 species, including plenty of waterfowl, a count first Double-crested Cormorant, two Ruffed Grouse, three Short-eared Owls, gorgeous examples of both light and dark morph Rough-legged Hawks, and much more.

If you want an interesting wintertime immersion into the Wilds, consider signing up for the Ohio Ornithological Society's annual foray on January 18th. We've been doing this event for a decade, and about 150 birders usually show up. It's a blast, with lots of interesting birding. Details HERE.

The reports of Bubo scandiacus, our large white visitors from the far north, keep tumbling in. When I last updated the Snowy Owl tote board on December 19, I had heard of a total of 68 owls in 30 counties. Since then, 11 additional birds have come to light, and three new counties of occurrence. To date, we're up to at least 80 owls in 33 counties. An updated map is below. As always, if you know of other owls, please let me know. And of course, if anyone sees errors, omissions, numbers that need to go up, down, or whatever, please do correct me. For the overly pedantic and rigid black-and-white thinkers, there will always be some margin of error when trying to tally Snowy Owls, especially at certain Lake Erie locales where it is impossible to know with certainty if the same owl is being counted twice as they shift around. But I stand ready to be corrected by those who know better.

As word of the Snowy Owl irruption has spread through both traditional media and social media, an increased number of reports have come in from nonbirders. Prior to seeing a story or post about the owls, these observers didn't know if anyone would be interested or where to go to report their finds. Most of these reports have either had photos attached, or good descriptions. I am always interested in Snowy Owl reports and you can email me at: jimmccormac35@gmail.com

For more information about Snowy Owls in Ohio, and their probable source of origin, scroll down the alphabetized index of subjects on the righthand side of this page, and click on "Snowy Owl". This is certainly the largest irruption to hit Ohio in decades. The last invasion to rival this one was in the winter of 1949-50 when at least 41 birds and an unspecified "Sizable numbers... along western Lake Erie and south to Cincinnati" (from Peterjohn, Birds of Ohio 2001). One must go back further, such as the winters of 1941-42, when perhaps 150 birds appeared in the Cleveland area alone, to find larger irruptions.

It is reasonable to assume that many more owls dot our landscape that haven't come to light. Keep your eyes open for large white objects in fields, on fence posts, telephone poles or other prominent perches. A few observers found their owl when it flew right in front of their vehicle. Alas, vehicles are one of the snowies' biggest downfalls, and many get Buick'ed during these irruptions. I know of at least three roadkills so far in Ohio.

Butterflies, on temporary hiatus

Lesser Black-backed Gull

Mammalian hummingbats swarm feeder!

Spanish Moss is not a moss

Kittiwakes: A long, cold journey, including Cleveland

"Naming of birds proves baffling at times"

Snowy Owls invade Ohio (and elsewhere)!

The Million Dollar Duck

An interesting (and rare) hybrid duck

Motorboating raccoon

Horned Larks are tough as nails

Snowy Owl update (with regular updates)

Cool Altocumulus Clouds

The origin of all these Snowy Owls?

Sumac creates biological hotspots!

Nettie Bay, Michigan: May 2014!

Theft of images. A real problem!

Snowy Owl numbers grow

Birding (and mammaling) at the Wilds

ANOTHER Snowy Owl update